Who will save the saviour?
by Usually Immaculate Aristocrat
Summary: when the saviour is falling, who can save him? one shot, DracoHarry, please review!


Who will save the saviour?

**_When you lose everything, everything you loved anything you cared for, anybody you loved…_**

****

**_You shut off, become a shell. People don't bother you; you don't get near them in fear. In fear of them being taken away, them being hurt…_**

**_But inside, the thing you're really afraid of is getting hurt yourself. You don't want to lose a part of yourself again._**

~

_Void, chasm, empty, mourning,_

_Pain, recluse, retreat, guilt,_

_Surrender to temptation,_

_Fill the hole._

_Shell, unfeeling, remorse, dead._

~

"Am I alive?" Harry was perplexed. "Am I human, or some virus? Every one I care for is dead. My parents…" _'you don't care about them, you didn't know them.'  An evil voice was whispering in Harry's mind, it seemed so true, Harry began to believe it's arguments, "Sirius…" _'You just latched onto him, and sapped him dry'. "_Ron and Hermione," '__they're not dead, just in irreversible comas'. "That's worse than killing them. They won't wake up. Dumbledore is dead." '__You weren't to blame for that; he fought of his own accord'. "To save _me_! The only person who ever saw me as I was, I am, was, Malfoy. Draco, I think his name was. Dragon… fitting somehow. He saw 'Potter' as a legend; saw that people only cared about my ability to survive Voldemort. He knew I was a fake. All this time, he was too; we saw the surname Malfoy. His father wanted power, he was too weak to obtain it himself, and became a slave. But I never knew Draco…_

He once said that he would spit on my grave. Well now, he has the chance…"

Harry stood up, new resolve in his mind. He picked up his dagger and slowly drew it across his wrist. "Goodbye…"****

A silver-eyed boy was watching him from a doorway. He decided to speak up, "You know, goodbye is rather inappropriate for you to use, because it's short for 'god be with you'. If you succeed, you're the one who'll be with him, if you believe in that of course…" 

Harry looked up at the boy staring at him and glared. "Go away, Malfoy."

"No, I think I'll stay and watch; I don't think you'll go through with it; it takes strength to kill someone, even if it is someone as useless as yourself. I want to see if you'll make it."

"Suit yourself." Loss of blood had made Harry light-headed. He sat cross-legged, waiting for his demise. Draco watched him with a detached interest, like watching a rerun on television of a programme you enjoy; you have better things to do, but you watch it anyway.  

"Why are you doing this?" he eventually asked, "Not that I care, I just want to congratulate the person who drove you to the pitiful state you're in now."

"Go to the cemetery then."

Draco looked incredulous, "Are you still moaning about your family? I have one, and would be only too happy to see them six feet under. Believe me, you're not missing anything."

Somehow, Draco's words comforted Harry, and he hated Him for being able to do so easily which Harry himself, had given up trying. All retorts failed him, however.

"Fuck you, Malfoy."

Draco raised an eyebrow at the unimaginative reply. "It's only fun if others participate, thank you very much."

"If you say so." Harry was losing his vision slightly around the edges, soon, all he saw was Draco. 'This stupid boy' Harry thought bitterly, 'is ruining my time left here!' he tried to glower but the vicious voice in his head returned, _'I thought you wanted to leave? Why don't you go already? Scared?'_ Harry began to slump, getting dizzier by the second. He fell backwards, but was caught by a pale hand practically materialising from behind him. 

"You really are serious. Well I can't blame you. It's hard enough living up to one person's expectations, let alone a hundred." With a flick of his wrist, Draco pushed his sleeve up to reveal to Harry a few faint lines, scars. "Let's get you to Pomprey then."

"No!" Harry weakly tried to yell. He didn't want anyone to know about what he had attempted. 

"Fine then." Draco muttered a healing spell. It was rushed, and only closed the cut up slightly in a makeshift scab.

Harry shifted in his position on the floor. "Why… Why… are… you?"

"Shh," Draco hushed him in an unnaturally gentle tone, "you'll be ok like I was, when Snape found me. I sent a bad curse at him, thankfully, he realised I wasn't in a proper state of mind at the time. He hasn't held it against me."

"So, that's why…"

"No, he likes me because I hold his subject in reverence and have considerable skill in it."

"Oh…"

"Just shut up, Harry." Draco snapped. "Stop trying to be such a Gryffindor and quit trying to figure me out." At the sound of his name, Harry tried to stand, but collapsed, again supported by his nemesis. The nemesis in question picked him up easily and held him in the cradle of his arms. "You're really light!" he said amazed, "but then again, you don't eat, so that's understandable." Draco watched the boy in his arms as he walked from the corridor he had found Harry in to his personal room. He spoke the password, "fuck Voldemort", deposited Harry onto his bed, and began to search for his potions kit.

"Wha… What?"

"I thought I told you, save your bloody breath." Draco found his kit, and set it up by the fire. Harry watched hazily as Draco made whatever he was making. He looked so amazing, with hair flowing down his cheek and his brow furrowed in concentration. Finally, he was done, and lifted a vial to collect some of the deep red potion, like strawberries. He poured the vial into a goblet by the bed and looked expectantly at Harry

"What? I work hard to make you better, and you don't trust me enough to drink it? That's ungrateful. If you do decide to die, please go into the bathroom to do it, I rather like this bed." He made to leave.

"Wait! Mal… Draco, Thank you." Harry's eyes welled up, although he wasn't sure why. 

"Sure, whatever."

"For everything. You were always honest to me, and that meant a lot."

For a moment, Draco looked wistful; he looked at the boy dying on his bed, and made up his mind. He pointed to the goblet. "Look, drink that, and then we'll talk."

"Sure." Harry gulped the mixture down quickly, expecting a foul taste. It actually tasted like creamy vanilla ice cream. Draco laughed at the surprise evident on Harry's face. 

"It makes it taste better. I lay dying, refusing a potion until it tasted of vanilla. You should have seen Snape; he almost left me." Draco looked at Harry's shocked face, "I was such an arrogant child then." He added as an afterthought. 

"When was this?"

"I was about ten."

"Bloody hell, why?"

"I told you, we'll speak later. Bye."

"Bye." Harry's sight was returning. He surveyed the room with mild interest. The décor was impersonal, and had no particular house colours, although Harry was sure it was in Slytherin territory. It was peaceful, and Harry liked it. His headache went after a while, and he decided to take a bath to wash the caked blood off himself. Harry found a towel, and undressed. While waiting for the bath to fill, he carefully washed his arms, which had not completely healed yet. When the bath was ready, he plunged in. the water was beautiful; it was warm, and carried a vanilla essence. He cleaned himself and reluctantly left the bath, thinking that the owner of it wouldn't take to kindly to finding a naked boy in there. He put on the dressing gown he had found by the sink and walked to where he had left his clothes.

"Well, well, you got up then." Draco was standing by the fire, holding his clothes. Harry braced himself for the lecture he was expecting on personal property. "You can't put these back on. Let me get you something else. Where is your room?" Harry opened his eyes. 'Draco wasn't going to attack me!' he thought relieved. 

"Behind the portrait of Camelot on the 5th floor. The password is…"

"Let me guess, 'round table'? You Gryffindors are so predictable." Draco smirked at Harry's sheepish looks. Draco left without a word, and was back within ten minutes with a pile of robes, and a tray of sandwiches.

"Tuck in, I've already eaten. But please get dressed first." Draco handed Harry a pair of blue silk pyjamas.

"These aren't mine."

"I know that. But they're probably more comfortable than yours."

"Thanks"

"Don't mention it. Really, don't." Harry put on the pyjamas. Draco was right, they were more comfortable than Dudley's cast-offs. He sat down and commenced to devour the sandwiches. Draco watched him with amusement. 

"What's so funny?"

"Whatever happened to _'oh, I'm so depressed, I'm going to die!_?" The high falsetto Draco had put on to mimic Harry was so funny that Harry burst out laughing.

"He died,"

"Really?" Draco raised an eyebrow, "Then who are you?"

"Someone else. Someone without a footnote to his name, someone with no tags about his actions."

"So you are not the saviour of the wizarding world? Oh, _what have I done?" _

"You saved him." Harry stood up and walked up to Draco. "hi, I'm Harry, and you are?"

"Draco,"

"Nice to meet you." Harry held out his hand. Draco took it.


End file.
